Endymion
by Supersticiousmonkey89
Summary: [KataraxAang] Endymion the Shepherd, As his flock he guarded, She, the moon, Selene, Saw him, loved him, sought him...


Endymion

Supersticiousmonkey89

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar.

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_Endymion the shepherd,_

The Avatar bows his head silently in prayer.

It's almost dark. He always prays at sunset, moments before the moon rises to kiss his face. Moments before I rise to meet him.

They think me sick. Lost and lonely. Frightful of the world.

But they are wrong. I fear nothing except fire. The fire of morning that consumes the world. The fire that consumed my friends.

So the beautiful shepherd bows his head in prayer.

Silent as the grave.

_As his flock he guarded,_

The last of day's light is gone.

He climbs to meet me and I arch to face him.

But he turns away, the blind girl his first concern with her sick face and pale lips. He guards the girl most astutely eyes never wandering from her mirthless form. Eyes never falling from the girl to my light.

So I watch on in silence.

I watch with rancor.

_She, the Moon, Selene,_

I look out, away from my shepherd.

I smile. I'm bright tonight. Bright and white, not red like my hands. Red hands sticky and moist. Mother made my hands moist and father made them wet. But Sokka...

Sokka was different.

Sokka made my hands drip.

The sun is rising. Tall and vast and proud.

I lie against the cold wood. My light is almost overcome and I have little time. The shepherd smiles lightly, his attention falling to the dying moon. Only the dying ever catch his smile.

And so I smile back.

_Saw him, loved him, sought him,_

I see him once more. He bows again in his earthly arch in prayer. The shepherd resembles more a submissive willow inclined to the howling wind.

But he is anything if that.

Since first I saw him with absolved eyes- a child's eyes- I have watched. Watched as he's grown and matured. Watched as he stained his hands and learned to distrust the stars. I have watched on with silence as he mastered the elements.

I have watched. A silvery perch.

I have loved.

A crimson. Love. Flowing and wet. Dark.

Dark, wanning moon and nightly heavens.

From the heavens I come now. My light only barely breaking into the shadows. My shepherd does not smile. Never. And my light kisses him for it.

_Coming down from heaven_

Tonight is different.

Tonight my light is full and bright.

Tonight I make tea.

_To the glade on Latmus,_

I smile.

The pale shepherd sleeps. Sleeps in the clearing beneath the moon where the cool grass, still frosted with the morning shower, licks at his skin.

But I control the water and it may not have what is mine.

The water is wet and cold.

It drips from my fingers as easily as the red. It neither stains nor cleans. That is reserved for the blind sheep my shepherd watches.

_Kissed him, lay beside him._

Kisses.

My lips. My shine. My light.

Kisses settle on the warm skin, soft; fair. For my sleeping shepherd.

Tonight, his flock go unguarded.

_Blessed is his fortune._

He grows cold. Cold as the dew settling around us. Cold as the death that lingers near his lips.

My smile widens and I kiss away the nightmares that linger near. My light breaks through the darkness and enamors his silent gray eyes. Eyes now filled with my light and no longer the fiery sun.

They hold my light as they once did.

The way that Mother and Father and Sokka now do.

His skin is cold.

_Evermore he slumbers,_

The sun is rising and my shepherd sleeps.

Evermore he sleeps.

Tomorrow, he shall whisper no more prayers.

Tomorrow, he shall guard no more sheep.

Nevermore will he look away.

Nevermore will he look.

The sun has risen.

I fall to sleep. With a sigh.

_Tossing not nor turning,_

The Avatar does not bow his head silently in prayer.

It's almost dark. He once prayed at sunset, moments before the moon rose to kiss his face. Moments before I rise to meet him.

They think me sick. Lost and lonely. Frightful of the world.

But they are wrong. I fear nothing except fire. The fire of morning that consumes the world. The fire that consumed my friends.

The beautiful shepherd does not bows his head in prayer.

All is. Silent as the grave. And I sigh.

_Endymion the shepherd._


End file.
